Me & Timothy Cooper (8 page)

She seated herself in a chair in front of them
, turning around backward
. “Why don’t you introduce me to your girlfriend?”

He sucked in a lungful of
throbbing
air. “This is Taylor. Taylor, Brianne.”

Taylor was staring at him, studying his reaction. She was nothing if not perceptive. She’d know something was up. She’d …

“You kissed her. Didn’t you?”

Ask.
He gulped. “It … it was a long time ago, fourth grade.”

“Tell me,” Taylor
said,
her gaze on his face
.
“Was he as
charming then?” She
turned
toward
Brianne.

Brianne smiled. “Of
course,
and the cutest boy in the class.”

They
both grinned
like Cheshire cats. H
e fastened a
n artificial
smile on his face.
Nothing worse than two females in league.

Brianne brush
ed a lock of silky hair from her shoulders
.
Her next question sent him reeling.
“So, Tim, How’s Justin? I’ll bet I won’t recognize him now.”

Justin. His heart stopped beating. She didn’
t know;
the pain of her words cut through him
,
and it all came tumbling back.
Justin dead on the ball field.
Justin being given CPR.
Justin gone.
He leaned over, hanging his face between his knees, his stomach shoving upwards.

“Tim? Is something wrong?” Brianne asked.

Taylor wrapped her arms about his
shoulders, her gentle voice speaking
softly in his ear. “Justin’s dead.”

***

I knew he was dead, but I didn’
t know how
. At that moment, it didn’t matter because Tim was about to collapse. Brianne must have felt awful. It was a serious gaffe on her part, but not preventable. If she hadn’t seen Tim since fourth grade, then she would have no idea Justin was gone.

Unfortunately, at that moment the worship team climbed on the platform
, and there was no time to say anything more to Brianne
. The drummer, a fifteen-something kid, twirled his drumsticks in his fingers as he climbed behind a three-piece Pearl set. The bass player and guitarist were twins.
Literally.
Tall, thin weed-shaped guys about our age.

Tim descended into a funk, and I didn’t blame him. All through the sermon, which was something about witnessing at school, he stared at the floor or his shoes or something down there. It was after the altar call that he got up and left. Eric stared at me. Brianne stared at me. And I stared at Tim’s back as he exited the room.

I couldn’t go after him, obviously. Brianne shouldn’t go after him. I was, after all, his girlfriend so how would that look? And Eric d
idn’t attempt to go after him. So w
e sat there as the youth pastor dis
missed and kids filed out. When Tim returned, h
e seemed better, resolved.

“Let’s go,” he said to me. He made no attempt to explain anything to Brianne, which made me feel
kinda
bad, but probably he didn’t want to talk about it. He helped me to my feet, and we headed for his car.

The moon was at about half
-
mast, enough to make the world dark yet provide a breath of light. It cast strange shapes on the hood of his car. He wasn’t speaking, so I wasn’t either. Until we got to the park and he shut the car off.

“I need to tell you,” he said.

Tell me about Justin. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it. It would be awful no matter how he phrased it. I kept my mouth shut.

“He was ten.
Loved to play baseball.
Was good at it actually.
Mom signed him up for Little League, and we’d go to every game. They were playing the Miners, a team from across town, and the Miners had a fierce reputation.” He rubbed his arm absentmindedly.

“Justin had gone on all day about how this year they’d finally beat them. ‘We’ll show them,’ and all that, so he was pretty pumped when we got there. I don’t know, but I’ve always wondered if that made him careless. If … if it could have been prevented.”

I reached across and took his hand in mine. He looked at me, his eyes so sad, and my heart broke in two.

“It was
the
middle of the inning, and he went up to bat. Mom was cheering. I was cheering. He batted left-handed, so he was standing opposite the others and couldn’t see us. But I’m sure he could hear.
We were so loud.
The pitcher, a
f
ellow twice Justin’s size, wound up the pitch, and I could see it in his eye. He was going to make this a good one, really sling it over the plate and try to get him out. He pulled back his arm and tossed the ball. No one knows how it happened. All Justin did was swing, but as he did, his helmet popped off. Flew right up in the air and distracted him. So much so, he stepped forward, right into the path of the ball.”

I listened to my own breaths race faster and faster. I didn’t want to hear this. I didn’t. But he had to tell it. I braced myself.

“The ball hit him square in the head.
Killed him instantly.”
He glanced away. “It was determined after that the helmet wasn’t put on correctly.”

His voice was bitter. “
Mom had to tell Dad, who was far away, and he had to fly all the way home to bury his son.”

I licked my lips. “I’m sorry.”
Which sounded really rotten given the size of what he’d just told me.

“Thanks.” He turned to me. “I’ve never told anybody that.”

“So
wh
-
why me?”

“Come here.” He tugged me across the vinyl seats to his side, and I buried my head in his shoulder. He didn’t speak for several minutes, but ran his thumb back and forth over my hand. “Is it crazy that I like you so much?” he asked.

“No crazier than me liking you so much.” I raised my face to his, and he smiled at me.

“You
are
crazy, but I like you that way.” He lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me gently.

My insides went all swirly.

CHAPTER 10

“You sure I have to do this?” I asked. But he was grinning again. He’d make me. I pulled the towel tighter about my body.

Me swim with Timothy Cooper?
We’d made a deal, and I had to keep my part of it. He did wait until Saturday though. Thursday and Friday were boring, old school. We watched TV in the evenings and talked. I felt like I knew all there was to know about him now.

And I
admitted my dad was not really my dad. Well, he was. He’d raised me, and I loved him like my dad. But he married my mom when she was expecting, my real dad having run out on her
. She’d never seen him again after that either. Tim said that was real sorry, and I agreed. But being as I’d never met him and knew nothing about him, it didn’t really hurt any.

However, when Saturday rolled around and my ankle was quite a bit better, I knew, just
knew
, he’d make me pay up. So I put my suit on like he asked, but found the biggest towel in the house to conceal myself.

He pushed me out the French doors onto the patio, the heat from his naked chest resting so close to mine confusing my thinking.

“How about we make a new deal?” I asked.

He laughed in my ear, his breath warm. “No new deals.”

I planted my feet at the edge of the pool, self-consciousness flooding over me. I swam well enough. Take me to the beach or a public pool, and I’d enjoy myself. But this wasn’t about swimming, and I knew that. Worse, I knew he knew that.  This was about him seeing me in the suit.

Stupid me.
Why’d I make the deal? If only I could be thinner, like those models on TV, and not have my every hill and arch strain to get out of th
ings. If only I had a one piece
with one of those Granny cover-ups.

“You swear you’re not
gonna
tell anyone about this?” I was begging, but I was desperate.

“I swear I’m not going to tell
many people
about this.”

I curled my toes over the pool’s edge.
“Many people?
But …”

He laughed again. “You have to give me something, Southern. Let me enjoy the moment.”

But what was there to enjoy?
Me all lumpy and bumpy?
No thanks.

He grasped my shoulders and turned me around. Then he seated himself on the edge of a patio chair. I stood there doing some staring of my own. Timothy Cooper with his shirt off was a pleasant sight.
Not to mention the legs.

The G
ood Lord made him beautiful. That’s for sure.

He hung his hands over his knees. “Well, go ahead.”

Go ahead.
Go ahead and do what?
Drop the towel.

“Can I get one more question in?” I asked.
Delay.
That was my tactic.

His mouth curled up on one side. “Okay, one more question. But then I get to ask one too.”

I didn’t like that
thought
, but if he asked a question that was that much longer I put this off. I nodded. “Okay.
Me first.”

He leaned back in the chair, folding his arms behind his head. “Go ahead. I’m ready.”

“
You
joinin
’
the army after high school?” He’d indicated such, but it was the one thing we’d never talked about.

His eyes took on a curious daze.
“Yeah.
Why? You object to your boyfriend being a soldier?”

I smiled. “No. You think you’ll still be my boyfriend then?”

“That’s two questions,” he said, “but I’ll answer because I want to.”

I tightened my grip on the bath towel.

“We talked about this already, the first night you were here.”

That seemed like ages ago now. I could barely recall the moment, much less our conversation. “What did we say?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I said in two years I’d propose.”

I sucked in a breath to still the fluttering in my heart. “I thought that was … was …”
Just a conversation.

“Was what?”

“Us talking.”

He lowered his arms. “No, it wasn’t.
You thinking
about getting tired
of
me?”

That made me smile. Get tired of Timothy Cooper? Not a chance.

“No.”

“Well then.” He
clapped his hands.
“My tur
n.”

I threw my weight onto my good leg. My ankle still ached sometimes. “Okay.”

“
What is the one thing you’d change about your life as it is right now, today?”

I considered his questions with two thoughts in mind. One, why did he ask it? It was a deep question for him, but then he had his moments. Two, what
would
I change? I liked my life fine. School was good. My parents and I got along. My boyfriend was Timothy Cooper. I couldn’t think of anything I’d want different.

I opened my mouth to say so and
subsequently
shut it. A thought lit in my brain, and a slow smile crept onto my face. I crossed my arms over my chest.

“One thing, huh?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“I’d get outta doing this.”

And throwing his head back, he roared.

I took that instant to shed the towel and dive in. He missed the whole thing. Next
I
know,
I am in the pool, my hair streaming about my face
, and he’s looking at me
.

Boy did his face turn funny. He was all jittery and sweating, his eyes locked onto mine.

I swept my hands through the water. “What?” I asked.

He coughed and cleared his throat.
“N-nothing.
You look …
uhm
…”

Now, who wasn’t finishing their sentences?

“I look what?”

Weird?
Plump?
Tubby?

“Sexy.”

I think I inhaled all the pool water at
that point. Was he nuts? Di
d Timothy Cooper just call me sexy? But from the looks of things that’s exactly what he meant to say because he was about to slide out of his chair.

And an evil little voice in my brain begged me to test the whole thing. I really shouldn’t. It’s horrible to listen to the evil little voice. But then this was Timothy Cooper and he always made me lose my sense of reason.